That Which Unites Us
by Kerrison
Summary: One more time, they'd gather around a casket. One more time, the team would stand side by side. One more time, 'family' would be defined by love, not genetics. One more time, tears would fall, Taps would echo, and hands would be held. And this time, even the wayward sheep would return home.


_**Author's Note:** Months ago, I was extremely saddened to hear of the death of Ralph Waite. In my mind he will always been Booth's Pops and Gibbs' dad and, in some ways, that makes two of my favorite fictional G-men related ;-) Thanks for being the thread that united so many fandoms, Mr. Waite. And thanks to Jackson Gibbs for being the thread that unites our favorite team._

_As always, Jen is awesome for all she does and strokes my ego far more than is deserved._

_Reviews would be very much appreciated._

* * *

He had attributed the first instance to his surroundings. Cemetary. Tree branches casting flitting shadows.

The second time, he hadn't been able to shrug it off as easily.

It was there.

That feeling on the back of his neck that someone was watching him; not just 'watching' him but watching over him, assessing him, watching his six.

It was a feeling that had been absent for months. And it was a feeling he was reluctant to acknowledge, knowing the spiral of angst that always resulted when he was wrong.

Tony sighed and squared his shoulders, ensuring he was as present as he could possibly be.

They faced the flag-draped Cherry box. Gibbs stood to his right, Abby taking up Gibbs' other side. Tim, and Bishop finished off that side of the front row, with Vance on Tony's other side.

They stood sentinel, flanking Gibbs like soldiers. And soldiers they were, each willing to do whatever it took to alleviate even the smallest bit of grief from their Team Leader.

The Chaplain's voice droned over the crowd, his words offering comfort and hope regardless of denomination. Even the birds seemed to sense how somber the occasion and respectfully silenced their spring-time songs in deference to the bugler's rendition of Taps which now echoed across Arlington.

This time, like every other time, the melancholy tone created a lump in his throat in a way that no other song could.

The Honor Guard began the process of folding Jackson's flag, their movements sharp and precise.

Tony felt the moisture well in his eyes and he blinked rapidly behind his dark sunglasses, knowing that while no one would fault him for tears at Jackson Gibbs' funeral, he didn't want anything obscuring his vision today.

He needed to look Gibbs in the eye at the end of this.

The Honor guard approached Gibbs, the crisply folded flag held reverently between white-gloved hands.

The soldier's words were recited true to script, but with more reverence and honesty than Tony had expected. After all, Honor guards perform flag presentations all the time; why was Jackson Gibbs any different than every other soldier receiving a Military service?

"On behalf of a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service."

Gibbs's hands closed over the flag and he looked momentarily as if he wanted to cradle the fabric against his chest, squeezing his grief into the cloth.

Of course, he did not. He returned the soldier's salute with respect true to form and uttered his thanks.

Gibbs breathed deeply and nodded towards the casket as if bidding his father one final 'see ya.'

A pair of black lace swathed arms encircled Gibbs, Abby hugging him tight to her. Her eyes were red and there were moisture tracks on her cheeks.

The breeze ruffled the tree leaves and carried a whiff of Jasmine to Tony's nose.

He didn't need to turn around. And he could no longer deny the hairs that stood on the back of his neck. His lips twitched ever so slightly in a reflex that he could not suppress.

To his left, Vance cleared his throat and stepped away, separating himself from the rest of the mourners.

For the first time Tony did the mental math. It wasn't too long ago that Vance stood graveside, saying goodbye to his wife. As hard as this was for Gibbs, it had to be difficult in different ways for their Director, knowing the anniversary of that disastrous night was so close at hand.

Eli.

He toyed with the idea of sending a condolence card to his former partner, but the soft breeze brought another faint whiff of Jasmine to his nose and he realized he wouldn't have to spring for postage.

He tipped his head towards the spot Vance had just vacated, only to find a shorter figure now occupied the space.

She fidgeted in a very un-Ziva-like manner.

He unclasped the hands he had held in front of him and invitingly tilted the one that was closest to her.

Tony watched her features, clearly identifying the moment she realized what she was being offered. Her eyes closed just a hair longer than a blink and he watched the worry line on her brow soften away.

Her fingers closed around his own and he merely squeezed, not saying a word.

Now was not the time to ask how long she was in town, where she was staying, what her intentions were, or if she was, god willing, back for good.

Now was the time to let her pay her respects to a man she cared about and to provide her support to a man she loved like a father.

_Everything else can wait, _Tony thought, feeling her thumb caress the back of his hand.

He saw his boss shift towards them, having finally detached himself from Abby's clutches.

Gibbs simply nodded towards his senior agent, the two having silently grieved over boat-skeletons and beers the night before.

Gibbs' gaze turned towards the brunette at Tony's side. Her wild locks peeked from beneath the scarf she had draped over her head out of deference to the event.

"Thanks for coming, Ziver," Gibbs whispered, pulling her tight to his chest and closing his eyes to the embrace when her own arms encircled him.

Tony was a big enough man to admit he hated relinquishing her hand, even for such worthy cause.

"Hello, Gibbs," she merely said, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek before he kissed her temple in the way that always made her heart swell with daughterly affection.

When they parted, Gibbs' eyes settled again on his senior agent. He arched a brow as if to ask the younger man 'You ok?'

Tony gave a simple nod in reply but mentally rolled his eyes. Only Gibbs would be worried about someone else's emotional health while at his own father's funeral.

"You two coming back to my place?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm going to run home and change first, boss," Tony replied. "Call me if you need me to hit the store?"

He nodded before turning his attention to the wayward sheep. "Ziver?"

"I-" she stuttered, not being aware of the evening's 'festivities' at Gibb's house. A night of grilled steaks and beer and laughter in Gibbs' back yard had been _demanded _by none other than Ms. Scuito and Gibbs has been helpless to deny her, as per usual.

When she spoke, Abby's voice was reluctant and more reserved than usual and somehow she had managed to rein in her enthusiasm and not engulf her friend in a hug. She was somber. She was pained.

"Please come," she merely uttered, her gaze having long since fallen to her absentee friend.

She had missed Ziva as much as everyone but suffered in her own manner. First Kate. Then Eli, and Jackie. Then Ziva. Now Jackson. Having one of her lost family members back, even for one night was too much to resist. Abby tried, but failed, to keep the desperation out of her voice.

Just one night. She just wanted one night with her family around her.

Gibbs's eyes flickered the same suppressed desire.

Ziva saw the want for what it was. She didn't have the desire to suppress her her own ache to be surrounded by her much-missed family. She merely nodded. "Yes. Thank you. I will be there."

Abby's face cracked into a smile and Gibbs's eyes twinkled ever so slightly. "Good," he merely said with a firm nod of his head as if that sealed the deal before he turned to greet the guests lined behind him.

An errant cloud finished its path in front of the sun and the sky brightened. She found herself back at his side and her fingers entwined with his again.

"I'll have to do this for my dad one day," he said softly.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Will you be there?" he asked, his voice both low and thick.

"Yes. I will be right here," her fingers squeezed his.


End file.
